


broken-down bullet wounds

by Somethin_Strange



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Grief/Mourning, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Medic i'm so sorry, Temporary Character Death, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, takes place during The Naked And The Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:41:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29472618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somethin_Strange/pseuds/Somethin_Strange
Summary: In the TF2 comics, Medic gets shot by Classic Heavy and gets sent to hell. We mostly see this from the perspective of RED Heavy.But what was Medic thinking during all of this? What was going on in his head?This is a study of that moment, and the implications that come with.
Kudos: 19





	broken-down bullet wounds

The first thing Medic remembered about it was the rain.

It beat down on him and the Heavy and the Classic Heavy; Falling in endless sheets of gray that made the ground slick with mud. Medic lay there against stone rubble, knocked senseless and prone, as Classic released him from his chokehold; Standing and turning to face the Heavy with a sick, sick smile. The rain traced down Medic’s face, dotting his glasses, unfocusing his vision with the water’s gentle haze.

The second thing Medic remembered was the sound of Heavy’s gun, Sasha, whirring and clicking with inaction; Almost as if begging for the pull of the trigger. It almost overpowered the sound of Classic speaking words that terrified Medic to his very core.

Almost.

“Ahh, the big guy, finally.” Classic said, voice eerily calm, almost...excited. “Heard a lot about you, big man. I ain’t gonna lie, I been lookin’ forward to this.”

Classic stood and turned, one arm wide out and gesturing to Heavy.

The Heavy in red remained silent.

“But I guess not, huh? Y’got me dead to rights here.” Classic moved his hands so that they were clasped behind his head, a vulnerable position. “Go on then. Do it.”

There was another small silence before the Heavy spoke.

“You want a good death?” The sound of Heavy’s voice was small comfort, almost a shield from the terror that thrummed in Medic’s every heartbeat; Telling him _your friend is here, you are not alone_. The Classic chuckled, but Heavy remained stoic as he deactivated Sasha and dropped it to the ground. “I can give this to you.”

Classic stood.

The third thing Medic remembered was the jolt of _fear fear fear_ that enveloped his system, feeling almost of the electricity of a defibrillator; Paralyzing Medic to the spot.

Struggling against his spiralling mind ( _verdammter Scheiß, Ludwig, you’re a doctor, you’re better than this_ ), he shakily pointed out a finger.

“...He…” Medic said, voice breathy, “...has a gun…”

Almost as if in confirmation, Classic drew his pistol and pointed it at the ground. Heavy’s eyes widened, then narrowed; Cold-burning anger beneath the surface.

“Coward. I should have known you would not want a fair fight.”

“See, here’s the thing.”

Classic drew back the barrel of his gun, pointing it directly at medic’s chest. 

“That’s _exactly_ what I want.”

With soft clicks, quiet yet so loud it sent alarm crashing like waves through Medic’s system, the trigger was pulled twice.

In truth, the next few things, in Medic’s mixed-up memory, often combine into one thing.

The immediate aftermath.

The flare of the muzzle registered first. Bright bright bright, a supernova star pointed at Medic’s chest; Two new suns created and snuffed out in an instant.

Then the sound. It was stupid, damn it, Medic had heard gunshots millions of times before. But this? This felt somehow new, somehow louder. Somehow overpowering the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. Somehow infinitely more strange.

Then...pain. An unbearable burning in his chest, followed by numbness that was almost worse; The feeling of blood slicking the front of his button-up and soaking up through his coat.

And then was the feeling of his head falling back onto the stone, body forcibly going limp. Medic _knew_ that he needed to stay awake, he _knew_ that going to sleep was the worst possible thing he could do in terms of survival…

...But he was just _so_ tired all of a sudden.

And surely, _surely_ Heavy wouldn’t mind if his eyes shut for just two seconds...

Surely the team wouldn’t mind...

Surely…

Sure…ly…

…

  
  


...Medic’s eyes snapped open to the sound of yelling.

“You. Killed. **DOCTOR!** ” came the screamed words of Heavy, followed by the _crack_ of a fist connecting hard with a target. Medic scrambled to his feet, the pain in his chest mysteriously absent. Perhaps shock had set in? He stumbled a few steps forward before regaining his footing on the muddy ground.

“Kamerade, zhere is no need for zhis retribution!” Medic said, trailing behind the action. “I am still here, yes?”

The Heavy didn’t even seem to hear, responding by hurling Classic into a stone wall; The man in blue responding in turn with heavy coughing and a pained grunt. 

“...Kamerade? Heavy...?” 

Medic reached out to put his hand gently on Heavy’s shoulder-

-Only for it to pass through. 

  
  


The next thing Medic could remember was the pure shock, and then the dread.

Medic stood there for a second, shock worming itself deep into Medic’s very bones; Nestling between the marrow and the compact tissue. He didn’t breathe, didn’t blink, didn’t do anything but stare at his hand.

His translucent hand.

_No._

Medic couldn’t even hear the sound of Heavy and Classic’s fight as he stared at his hand; Eyes unfocusing-

_NO._

This sick, sick feeling coiled in his stomach like a serpent, tightening around his chest; If he had a heartbeat it would be racing-

_I’m...dead._

One hand flew up to his face to let him bite down hard on his knuckles, quite literally shaking in his boots-

_This isn’t a RED vs BLU battle. There’s no respawn here; No nothing. Dead is dead forever._

Every drop of blood in his veins seemed as if it were replaced with snow, soft yet unbearably cold. He was...dead. Gone. A ghost.

This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be! There was still so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to _say_ , so much he wanted to study-

_Is this how Sniper felt before Medic brought him back? Did Sniper look across the world he could not affect and know that he was dead?_

“I…”

_What was going to happen to the team?_

“I’m…”

_Who would care for Archimedes?_

“I’m still here,” Medic whispered, desperate to prove his continued existence. “I’m...I’m still here.” 

The only response Medic got was the sound of fighting; The screams of _you killed my friend_ , endless confirmation of _dead dead dead_ -

“I’m still here, kamerade.” Medic’s voice grew louder and much more desperate. “I’m still here! _I’m still here!_ I’m still-! I’m...”

_Alone._

Medic stood there, next to two other people yet completely and utterly alone; Screaming that he was still there.

_I’m still here, I’m still here_ echoed off into nothing, bouncing across the stone and not quite reaching anybody’s ears but Medic’s.

Medic’s and the Devil’s.

…

The last thing that Medic remembered of it was the meeting with the devil, but even that was a blur.

No, the thing that stood out most to him was that one moment where it all sunk in; Before he spoke with the Devil, before he swindled him into more years of life.

No, the thing that stood out most was that phrase.

_I’m still here, I’m still here;_

Screamed by the hoarse throat of a dead German doctor

Bouncing endlessly across the stone,

Reaching nobody.

_I’m still here._

_I’m still here._

_Please, someone tell me that I’m still here._

_Please,_

  
  


_Someone hear me._

  
  


...But nobody did.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thank you for reading! I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please leave a comment, they really inspire me to keep writing!  
> Have a great day!


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